Iron Dragon Tattoo
by Bananacakes141
Summary: Levy's decided it's time to get a tattoo, and the best place in town in the Iron Dragon.


She had walked from her car, which was parked a block away, to the front door of the shabby little building twelve times. Twelve. Trying to build up the nerve to go inside. Her combat boots were doing little to warm her toes in the biting January cold, and she cursed herself for wearing tights and a skirt for the ten-millionth time that day, as the walked up to the brick building for the thirteenth time. She was going inside this time, she stared at he blocky lettering on the glass door that read

 _Iron dragon Tattoo_

She took a deep breath and let it out sharply, deciding that she was too cold to keep chickening out. She pushed the glass door open, a small bell signaling her entrance. She discovered that the inside of the shop definitely did not match the outside. A black painted lobby greeted her, to her right was a red leather couch, several white leather chairs, and a black table. Hung on the walls were dozens of painting and sketches, some beautiful, flowing birds and faeries, and some were dark, nightmare inducing beasts. There three open rooms across from her, one was red, one white, and the middle one was black. A punk song floated quietly out a set of speakers on the walls, she thought it might have been My Chemical Romance. To her left was a drawing desk, a tall man sat in the chair his head bowed over his current drawing. His long dark hair was pull back in a loose ponytail. He was heavily tattooed, which she figured was fitting considering the man's career, but he was also heavily pierced. Studs trailed up his forearms, and decorated his face. They weren't unattractive, she thought to herself, the exact opposite in fact. She walked up to the man unwilling to interrupt his work.

"Excuse me," she asked embarrassed

Without looking up he said, "I was wondering how long it was going to take you to pluck up the courage to come in here. I count eleven time you walked back to your car."

She stopped. He had been watching her. A blush bloomed across her cheeks, "It was thirteen actually," she shook her head, " That's not the point. I'm looking for Gajeel Redfox, I would like a tattoo,"

The man turned to her, examining her, he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, an irritatingly smug look on his face "That's me. I specialize in American Traditional, Script, black and white, and watercolor. If you want any portraits or new school shit, you need to book an appointment with Natsu. I can do a piece you bring to me or I can do something custom, but that will cost you extra."

She took a moment to process his words, "Yes," she reached into her purse and fished out a crude drawing, "I would like this, in watercolor,"

He snatched it from her hand and looked it over, "You want a shitty drawing on you?"

"No, no, that's the basic idea, I want the book to be open and the words spilling down my arm," she turned to show him her small arm.

"Next problem, the language these words are in. I don't ink foreign languages unless you know exactly what it says, I've had too many pissed off clients to do it any other way," he said smugly

"Well I'm a linguist with the University of Magnolia and that's the language from a children's story of a long extinct tribe." she said matter of factly.

"Humph fine," he grabbed her arm suddenly, pulling the sleeve of her tee shirt over her shoulder. He pulled out a marker and started making tick marks. He put the end of the marker in his mouth and using his hand to show her said, "This is the amount of room you have on your arm for you to be able to see the whole piece, you're a shrimp so the finished product will be a bit smaller than the drawing you brought me,"

She puffed out her cheeks at the new nickname but nodded, and they made an appointment for the following week.

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"Hey Luce, I'm at the shop now. Yes I'll send you pics, and I'll call you after to let you know al about it. No, I can't do lunch today. Yeah he said to expect eight hours at least. Yeah I'll text you. K bye," Levy hung up the phone as she got the familiar glass door.

She thought briefly about walking back to her car, but then remembered that smug face he made at her and pushed the door open. The shop was empty except for Gajeel, he sat in the black painted room, looking at his newly drawn version of her original drawing. She took her coat and purse and hung them on a hook by the door.

"How many times did you turn around this time, shrimp?" he looked up at her.

"You weren't watching?" she jabbed at him.

"I was," he went back to staring at the drawing.

She walked into the small room and sat in the chair watching him. He opened the bottom drawer of a red toolbox in the corner. He pulled almost a dozen bottles of ink out, and after matching each shade to his vision , he shook them and poured them into tiny cups. The white, black, and brown went into bigger cups. He then opened the top drawer and pulled out two pieces of metal wrapped in airtight plastic, he put on a pair of black gloves and unwrapped them. There was a bigger piece and a needle, he hooked them up to a couple of wires and then put is foot on a small peddle at his feet. The machine buzzed to life.

The sound made her stomach flop in anticipation, she was actually doing this. She was marking her body permanently, there was no going back now. She watched as he flipped through several different speeds, different numbers showing up on the digital display on the machine, not that she knew what they meant. He set the tattoo gun on top of a sterile pad on the toolbox and then stood up.

"Come here," he motioned for her to stand in front of him.

She scurried to where he was, "Face that wall," he pointed at the wall to her left.

He picked up another pen and marked her the same way he had a week ago, then grabbed purple stenciled version of the book and symbols and laid it across her arm so that it fit perfectly inside the parameters he just marked. Satisfied the it was lined up correctly he pulled the paper off, leaving behind purple lines.

"Sit," he ordered

She sat so that she was facing the front door, snow was beginning to fall again. The buzzing of the tattoo gun brought her attention back to him. he looked at her mischievously and said

"Ready? Keep your arm relaxed or else you'll fuck up the lines,"

She nodded, and watched with apprehension at the needle met her skin. She made sure to keep her arm relaxed like he told her to and watched as he slowly marked black lines across her skin. The pain of the carving needle dulled slightly after a few minutes but she still had her other fist balled up tightly. She needed to think about something else.

"How does it work exactly? Tattooing?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"You looking to change careers, shrimp?" he asked without looking up.

"No, just curious,"

He stopped and dipped the needle in black again, diluting is in a cup of water, he looked curiously at her before continuing his work. As he worked he told her how it worked. That ink was not injected into the skin but how the skin pulled the ink off the needle. The detailed explanation helped her forget the pain a little. When he changed needles to begin the shading he showed her that needles were in a line instead of in a bunch like most people assumed. He showed her in the air different techniques of shading and explained how it brought out different textures and dimensions. In the moments he was silent, she just watched him work, and even though he stretched her skin this way and that, he was surprisingly gentle. She found herself enjoying the gentle warmth of his hand when he held her steady to change ink colors. As her tattoo started to morph into something recognizable. Their conversations changed. They spoke briefly about politics and religion. But somehow their conversation rotated around to their personal lives, where she discovered that he was single and had a cat named Pantherlily. She told him about her job and how she travelled often to explore ancient texts and decipher new languages. She liked the idea of seeing his home and meeting his cat. She shook head. What was she thinking, she didn't even know this man, and he obviously had no interest in a tiny little book worm like herself.

When he finished he let her stand up and look at it in the mirror. It was flawless, the pages of the open volume looked perfectly aged just like she had imagined, and the leather cover had such detail on it she thought it might be real. Even the symbols tumbling down her forearm was perfect, each one perfectly shaped.

"It's absolutely beautiful Gajeel," she said beaming from ear to ear.

He grabbed her arm gently, and applied coca butter to the fresh ink and began wrapping it in plastic to keep protected, "So are you going to tell me this children's story?"

"It's a long, long story," she said

His hands lingered on her arm even after he was done wrapping it, his eyes locking on her's, "So what you're saying is I need to buy you drink first?"

The words out of her mouth surprised even her, "Tell you what," she said flirtatiously, "Take me out to dinner and I'll tell you the whole story, and maybe a few others,"

He leaned in close to her, she could smell his cologne, something sharp and metallic, and she found that she wouldn't mind if her clothes to smelled like him.

A smirk worked it's way onto his pierced face, "How about my place tomorrow? I'll cook,"

She looked up at him shyly, her boldness from moments ago, swallowed by his own, "It's a date,"


End file.
